


Today is gonna be the day

by koorime_yu



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint sings a lot, Fluffy, Getting Together, M/M, Winterhawk Reverse Bang, minor Steve/Tony - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 05:59:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12977574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koorime_yu/pseuds/koorime_yu
Summary: Clint sings a lot, Bucky wants learn to play guitar, and it's almost Christmas.





	Today is gonna be the day

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. This is my first winterhawk and I'm really excited!  
> I wrote this one on Alyssa's amazing [art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12980715).  
> All the songs are Oasis's songs, of course.

Clint whistles, climbing on the fire escape. Natasha swears in the comm, a block away from him. “Stark,” she says, and Iron man gets down from the sky to pick her up.

It’s a sunny day in New York. It’s 54° Fahrenheit outside, on the December 1th.

All the city is adorned for the Holidays, at every corner and in every store you can find Santa Clauses ready to take kids on their knees and listen to their wishes.

It’s magic and funny, even if you live with someone like Tony Stark, who doesn’t really feel the spirit of Christmas.

Luckily for Clint, Steve and Bucky are as excited as he is about the tree and the decorations and the presents and all the beauty of Christmas.

It’s a sunny December day and Clint would have liked to take a walk down the street, maybe even go in Bed Stuy to say hello to his renters. He needs to go there in any case, before Christmas, to check that everything is going good - and bring some presents for the kids.

But instead of playing with Simone’s kids, Clint is stuck there, fighting the idiotic Absorbing Man who decided to attack the Avengers Tower for no reason.

Right now Clint could be hanging around in Central Park, and maybe he would even have convinced someone to join him. Bucky, for exemple.

“Avengers Assemble!” Cap orders, and the team moves in no time. They surround Absorbing Man and cut out every way out: Steve and Bucky on two sides, while Natasha and Iron Man defend the rear. All the block is clean and the police is keeping the civilians out of the way, just to be sure.

Bucky puts a glove on his metal hand and makes sure all his arm is covered by clothes. Nobody wants to deal with an Absorbing Man made of vibranium. For the same reason, Cap has left his shield in a special lockbox in the Tower, and only JARVIS can open it.

“Come on, Avengers! Bring it on!” Absorbing Man cries, clashing his own fists. Natasha turns her neck to relax her muscles and then follows Cap in the action.

On the rooftop, Clint keeps on whistling.

“ _You’re trying hard to put me in my place, and that’s why I gotta keep running_ ,” Clint sings quietly. In the battle, a growl rumbles like a thunder. Cap wards off a blow with his forearm and attacks with a well-placed kick. Absorbing Man hits the wall behind him and growls again, before changing in concrete and trying a new attack.  

“ _The future’s mine and it’s no disgrace, ‘cause in the end your life means nothing._ ”

Natasha stands up and she and Bucky try to engage, hitting the enemy on multiple sides. They are perfectly coordinated and many blows hit the target. Absorbing Man crashes on the cars on the other side of the street. He growls and gets up again, catching Iron Man flying and throwing him in the building behind them.

Clint jumps on the cornice and plays with the quiver’s button.“ _D’you feel a little down today? Bet you ain’t got much to say?_ ”

“Iron Man!” Cap screams. Natasha and Bucky cover him while Steve help freeing Iron Man from the building.  

Clint looks at the scene. Absorbing Man is now a perfect replay of the Iron Man’s alloy - and if that’s not a lucky shot. Clint smiles, chooses an electric arrow and aims. The wind increases and he needs to adjusts the trajectory just a tiny bit.

“ _Who’s gonna miss you when you’re not there?_ ” Clint shoots and the arrow hits Absorbing Man straight in the chest. “ _You know we don’t care,_ ” The big monster gets electrocuted and falls to the ground. God bless gold and its conductivity. “ _You know we don’t care._ ”

“You can stop singing, now, Clint,” Natasha says, panting.

“Why, was he singing?” Tony asks ironically.

Clint laughs and stands up, scratching his back. “You’re just jealous, ‘cause my voice is better than yours.”

“Next karaoke night, Bird Head. Me and you. Death match,” Tony retorts, and makes Clint laugh even more. The rest of the group moans, not amused at all.

“Can you guys fight at home?” Steve asks, cleaning his face from the mug the Absorbing Man threw at him. “I really need a shower, right now.”

“I volunteer to wash your back,” Tony says, and it’s almost a purr. Steve doesn’t reply, but Clint doesn’t need to be next to him to know that his face is gone all red and flustered.

A loud whistle hits Clint’s ears. “Guys?” Bruce calls, from the Tower. “Did you need me?”

“No need, Big Guy. We’re coming back to you,” Natasha says.

The Quinjet is waiting for them, like a good dog. Clint always had wanted one but never got any - and, oh God, Nat is right and Clint is an idiot and needs to stop trying to compensate his emotional loneliness with a dog. He scratches his back and yawns, putting his bow away and sitting into his usual spot. It’s better if he ignores that little voice in his head, too similar to Nat’s voice, that keeps saying he needs to grow up and do what he really wants to do. Clint is this close to point out loud that he has no intention to do what he really want to do precisely _because_ he’s a grown up.

In fact, he is so grown up that he keeps his eyes closed and stays quiet even if he can perfectly feel Bucky’s eyes on him. It burns his neck and makes him itch, but he doesn’t move. No sir. Not even a glance.

Clint ignores those eyes and just pretends to be anywhere else, any place with no Bucky and no temptations. Just him and his head against the wall of the Quinjet - that in his fantasy would be a tree or the concrete on the rooftop of his own building in Bed Stuy.  

“What was that?” Bucky asks, at some point, breaking the illusion, and Clint can’t help himself and turns to him. Ah, damn, why is he so weak?

“What was _what_?” Clint asks in echo, because maybe it’s Bucky’s eyes’ fault, but he have no idea what he’s talking about.

“That song you were singing,” Bucky explains - and, oh, okay, now everything makes more sense.

“Ah,” Clint smiles and pulls his Starkphone out. “That, my friend, was from one of the best bands in the history of music. Oasis. Listen, and then tell me.” Saying so, Clint sends a link of _Half the world away_ on Bucky’s Starkphone.

Bucky nods and looks at him again for a long moment. Clint tries and fails to smile, so he gets back to sit against the backrest. Bucky’s eyes still burn on his skin, and again Clint ignores it, letting the silence fill all the space between them.

Steve sits on the next seat, finally, and pulls Bucky into a dense chat about the strangest enemy they have ever faced. Apparently a man who skins off his own face is still the weirdest one - and, yeah, Clint can understand why.

  


_______________

 

Next time Oasis come up is three days after, when Clint passes by Bucky’s room, searching for Steve (Cap and Bucky still live together on the same floor of the Stark Tower and Clint doesn’t think they’re codependent, not at all) and overhears some very wrong chords and a rusty voice trying to follow Noel Gallagher’s voice.

Bucky is focused on the sheet music, pinching the strings from time to time and trying to sing some words. But in about half a minute, he looks up, knowing that Clint is there, at the door, and is looking at him.  

Awkward.

“Hey.”

“Hey. I didn’t know you can play guitar,” Clint says, stepping inside the room.

Bucky shrugs. “Actually I don’t. I’m trying teach myself, but it’s harder than I thought.”

Clint smiles and nods. He knows exactly what he means, and when his tongue runs out unintentionally, Clint thinks that he should have seen this coming. “I can teach you, if you want.”

Bucky looks surprised and hopeful. “Would you?”

Clint nods again, Bucky smiles brightly, and Clint swears in his mind, because of course he puts himself in this kind of situation. He always does. He needs to remember who Bucky is, and than who Bucky is for _Steve_ , and what he went through.

Bucky Barnes doesn’t need Clint’s bad luck in his life.

He doesn’t need Clint searching around for the best bakeries in the city for him, because the oldest one have been shutted down long ago. He doesn’t need Clint explaining why Carlo’s pizza is the very best pizza in the whole USA, and doesn’t need Clint showing him how different Brooklyn is on Christmas’ Eve , or- or how good Clint is at eating everything this city has to offer him.

Bucky Barnes doesn’t need a human disaster like Clint Barton in his life. Not now, not ever. And that means Bucky Barnes is out of reach for Clint. A big, big, _no_.

“Would you?” Bucky handles him his guitar, and Clint takes it without hesitation, sitting next to Bucky.

“What are you playing?” Clint asks, looking at the sheet music on Bucky’s bed - and yeah, Clint is aware he is sitting with Bucky on a bed, but he will not get all excited about it. He is not twelve years old, thank you very much. He’s a responsible adult who knows how to be in a calm and detached state.

But something aches in Clint’s chest when he tries and plays the song. Aw. This looks bad.

“I listened to Oasis a lot,” Bucky says, and then adds “and I ended liking them,” as a justification. Clint says nothing and just starts to play.

“ _A cold and frosty morning, there's not a lot to say, about the things caught in my mind,_ ” Clint starts to sing, with a soft voice. There is a weird feeling into his stomach, but he tries to ignore it. With his eyes closed, Clint plays the strings under his fingers and doesn’t think about Bucky’s eyes burning his flesh. “ _And I want to be there when you hit the ground. So don't go away, say what you say,”_ One part of him questions why Bucky choosed this song, if it’s because it seems easy or for other reasons, more specific and intimate ones. “ _But say that you'll stay forever and a day, in the time of my life._ ” Probably it’s better if Clint doesn’t find the answer, really.

Clint stops to play and breaths, deep and slow.

“You’re good.” Bucky says.

“I’m a little rusty, but thanks,” Clint says, with a soft smile. If he applied common sense right now, Clint would stand up and find an excuse to go away and never, ever come back. He just needs a reasonable motivation to not teach guitar to Bucky. Something like _my hands just broke_.  “Okay, do you want to start right now?” Clint’s mouth says, instead.

“If it’s not a problem for you,” Bucky shrugs, but his shoulders are tense and he sits really still. Is he nervous? Why should he?

Clint handles the guitar back to Bucky, who tries to play some keys. It’s strange, looking at his hands trying to do something as delicate as play strings. Bucky’s hands are wonderful war machines - all his body is, thanks to the war and Hydra. Clint has always admired them and their work, the capacity they have to adapt to every weapon in every situation, the precision he can reach. And now those hands are playing for him - well, not exactly for him, but Clint can pretend pretty well. He pretends all the time.

Metal fingers pluck the strings with too much effort, and one breaks with a screeching.

“Fuck,” Bucky murmurs, looking frustrated. Clint laughs quietly and shrugs.

“I was wondering when it would happen, to be honest,” he says. “Do you have any supplies?”

Bucky nods and pulls a new, shiny string out of the drawer next to his bed.

Clint replaces it and tunes the guitar again. “You need to be more delicate. I suppose it’s really not easy with that hand, but I’m sure you can do it. You didn’t break my bow, last time, after all, did you?” he says - and yeah, no, it’s better if he doesn’t remember what a damned vision Bucky was with his bow in his hands, how perfectly he was all stretched, while he aimed and fired and took down all the targets.

But the memory is burned into Clint’s mind and won’t go away.

Oh well, he can live with that dirty little secret.

  


_______________

 

“ _I'm free to be whatever I, whatever I choose and I'll sing the blues if I want,_ ” Clint closes the fridge, singing. “ _I'm free to say whatever--_ woah!” He stops abruptly, looking at Natasha, who’s looking back at him with an eyebrow raised up.

“You’re happy,” she says.

Clint presses a hand against his chest. “And shitting myself right now, thanks to you.”

Natasha’s grin is pure evil, and Clint doesn’t frankly know why he loves her so much. Maybe it’s her hair. “What are you doing?” she asks, and Clint remembers why he went to the kitchen in the first place.

“Drink. Milk,” he says, rising his hand still holding the milk. Natasha looks at his other hand and Clint rises that one too, with a unsure smile. “Eat. Cookies.”

Natasha doesn’t reply and Clint takes it like a pass.

Okay, maybe he loves her so much because of her ability to know when there is no need to push. She’s the best, but Clint knows he doesn’t have to push his luck. So, with a last smile and a wave, he turns to get out. He is almost gone when she says “I really hope you know what are you doing.” and Clint knows she _knows_ , but he turns back to her with a shit-eating grin and rises up both his hands.

“Milk and cookies, Nat? What can go wrong?”

But Natasha’s eyes seems to burn on the back of his head, even when he is in front of Bucky’s room, and the kitchen - and Natasha - is two floor down. Some days he asks himself if that’s something she learned from the Red Room, or if it’s one of her most terrifying ability.

But not today. Not while Clint is looking at something so damn perfect.

It’s almost a week since he and Bucky’s lessons are going on, and the kid - well, the _old kid_ \- is pretty great at playing. Clint finds himself enjoying the guitar too, and even after all these years of inactivity, he can play pretty well too.

Plus, he can spend some quality time with Bucky - and that is something he promised he wouldn’t have enjoyed, but still. The man is pretty enjoyable, Clint can’t help himself.

Bucky is singing. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, as usual, with his raspy voice and his eyes fixed on the sheet music, and his hands holding and playing the guitar with maybe too much effort. “ _Free to be whatever you,_ ” Bucky sings, almost out of breath, but still keeping the beat. “ _Whatever you say if it comes my way it's alright. You're free to be wherever you, wherever you please you can shoot the breeze if you--_ ” Bucky’s fingers slip and key-off, and he swears under his breath.

Clint almost laughs. Bucky is good, really good at playing guitar, but he’s a damned perfectionist and doesn’t accept that he can go wrong sometimes. He’s as stubborn as his best friend, and that’s something. But, Clint has to say, he’s always had a soft spot for stubbornness.

Bucky looks up from his hands - probably because of his training as Asset - and Clint moves, faking his natural coming back.

“Hey, I got some fuel” Clint says, showing the loot from the kitchen. Bucky rises up his eyebrow.

“Milk and cookies? What am I, a child?”

“Well, technically you’re younger than me.” Clint shrugs.

“Technically I was born in 1917. I’m a hundred years old.”

“Nah, your pretty face tells me another story,” Clint says, but the grin on his lips falls a few seconds after. Bucky is looking at him with a little shock on his - _pretty_ \- young face and what? Doesn’t he know he is damn beautiful?

The silence is a little embarrassed, so Clint puts milk and cookies on the nightstand and sits next to Bucky. “What’s the problem?”

Bucky seems to shake out from his stasis and handles the guitar to him. “My hand can’t keep the beat.”

“You just need to practice more. Slow it down, if it’s easier for you. Like this,” Clint says, starting to play the same chords than before. “It’s the same chords over and over, you just need to practice and mastered them.” Clint keeps playing and then starts to sing. “ _Whatever you do, whatever you say, yeah I know it's alright. Whatever you do, whatever you say, yeah... I know it’s alright._ ”

When Clint’s hands stop to play, silence fills all the room. Bucky looks at him with his eyes opened widely. And when Clint moves through the other man, he can swear Bucky almost jumps, but moves too.

But probably Bucky doesn’t expect Clint to drop a box of cookies on his knees. “Eat, drink, and then try again,” Clint orders. Bucky looks surprised - and maybe disappointed - but opens the box and takes a cookie, before offering one to Clint.

“Bossy,” Bucky murmurs in complain, but takes a bite.

“Your best friend is Captain Bossy, you can’t complain,” Clint replies, while his hands play silly with the strings. “You know what? Master this song, and I will take you out for dinner. And you can choose where and what.”

Bucky’s face lights up. He smiles and takes back the guitar from Clint’s hands with the cookie still handled in his mouth.

Clint looks at his new found energy and grins, nervous and excited - and maybe he doesn’t have to be so much excited about this date. Mostly because it is not a date and he needs to stop thinking about things like _dates_ referred to Bucky. It will be a very bad idea, the worst idea Clint has ever had. One of those ideas that can bring down empires.

But, Nat helps him, that is a smile Clint could die for.

  


_______________

 

Bucky, Steve and Natasha leave for a mission that takes them away for all the weekend, and that means the guitar lessons abruptly stop. But Clint can’t complain, he almost spent the last two weeks with Bucky. Mostly playing the guitar, but sometimes also sparring together, or going out. Bucky asked Clint to go and help him find something for Natasha’s Secret Santa. Clint got Bruce, so he said yes, but only if Bucky helped him back. Liar, he would have said yes in any case, but Bucky doesn’t need to know that, right?

However, they got away on duty and suddenly is Sunday morning, and Clint is in the kitchen, looking for some coffee and some will to live. Tony is there too, chatting with Bruce about some adjustments they need to do to their last prototipe of _who-knows-what_. Well, maybe it’s better to say that Tony is talking, while Bruce is in that particular state of mind he reaches every time those two have one of their full-time immersions - and full-time means until Steve goes and drags them out of the workshop. Which means that this time, they spent all the weekend working on their projet.

Clint is on his third cup of coffee when Steve walks into the kitchen, all covered in dust and dried blood.

“What the hell happened to you?” Tony shots, almost angry, snapping Bruce out of his sleep-deprived trance.

“Oh, god. Are you guys okay?” Bruce asks, looking at Steve with worry. He’s not the only one.  Steve follows their look - well, Clint and Bruce’s look, and Tony’s glare - on his chest and rises his hands up, in peace.

“This isn’t mine,” he says and tries to smile. Tony doesn’t stop glaring, but approaches him dares a light touch on his chest

“What happened?” Tony asks again, this time less angry and more worried.

“They were waiting for us,” Natasha says, entering the room. She’s even more soiled and her hair are a total mess. “Somehow they knew we were coming.”

Steve sighs and nods. “We fought and Bucky--” Steve’s voice drops and Clint feels his own blood freeze.

Bucky _what_? What happened to Bucky? _Where_ the fuck is Bucky?

“He’s in his room,” Natasha says, looking straight into Clint’s eyes - and Clint could kiss her, really. But not now. Now he has more important things to do.

“Is he okay?” Tony asks, but Clint doesn’t wait for the answer. He puts his coffee down and takes the door, going straight to the elevator. He doesn’t even care if Tony and Steve finally kiss, after all these months dancing around each other.

He doesn’t care about pretending to go somewhere else, he doesn’t care about not having the right to run to Bucky and see how he is. All he can think is that Bucky is not right, not if Steve’s face means something - and it always means something when it’s Bucky.

Bucky is indeed in his room, as Natasha. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, head down, shoulders tense and bent. He looks like shit.

“You look like shit,” Clint says, stepping inside.

“Don’t--” Bucky starts, but stops immediately. His head goes even more down and he looks even more miserable. Clint walks to him and, just in that moment, he notices that Bucky’s face is covered in blood. Fuck, there is more blood on Bucky’s face that on Steve and Natasha’s uniform.

“What happened?” Clint asks, sitting next to the other, but not touching him. Bucky is usually not comfortable with being touched, and something says to Clint that, in this case, touching him will only be worse.

“Talk to me, man. I want help you,” he tries again, but the only response he gets is a twitch of his flesh hand. “And Steve. And Natasha, and all the others. We’re here for you, man, but you need to let us in.”

Once again, Bucky doesn’t give a sign, and Clint feels useless. He sighs, trying for his last move. “Come on, Bucky. You’re scaring me out,” he says in a worried whisper and that, finally, seems to work. Bucky sighs and closes his eyes for a moment, then he opens them again and looks at the ceiling.

“I killed them. All of them.” it’s just a whisper, but it’s enough for Clint to hear the panic and the grief in his voice. “There was an ambush and I--” Bucky sighs again, almost sobs. His metal hand gets up to his head. “It was like a-a click. Here. Right in my head, and then I was out. Steve thinks I wasn’t conscious, but truth is I was there. It was me, not...” Bucky runs both his hand into his hair. “It was me. _I_ killed all those men. They created me, and I killed them. All of them. Fuck, I was so angry,” he says, and, frankly? Clint can understand. If Loki were here, Clint would kill him too.

Bucky’s shaking now, so Clint puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It’s wet and sticky, and Clint tries really hard to not think about how much blood he has on him.

“Hey, it’s all good,” Clint says, trying to smile. “Hey, I know what it’s like, remember?”

Bucky snorts angrily. “Yes, because three days of brainwashing is exactly like _seventy fucking years_!” he growls, but then he turns to him and looks regretful and miserable. “Fuck,” he murmurs. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Clint, I didn’t...” Bucky passes the metal hand through his hair, frustrated. He looks away again, unhappy and depressed - and Clint doesn’t know what to say. Yeah, of course he knows that Bucky didn’t mean to be rude. They literally bonded on their common trauma, so Clint has no doubt that his regrettable outcome was not intended.

Clint does the only thing he can think of. He takes the guitar and starts to play. Bucky seems to recognize the song before Clint starts to sing.

“ _We’re the people fight for our existence, we don't claim to be perfect but we're free_ ,” Clint sings, low and delicate. Bucky looks at him with his eyes big and unsure.

“ _... You know I didn't mean what I just said,_ ” Bucky sings with Clint. “ _But my God woke up on the wrong side of his bed, and it just don't matter now_.”

“ _As little by little_ ,” they sing together. “ _We gave you everything you ever dreamed of. Little by little the wheels of your life have slowly fallen off. Little by little you have to give it all in all your life, and all the time I just ask myself why you're really here?_ ”

Clint smiles and his fingers don’t stop.

Keeping the beat is easy, because Clint knows perfectly this song - he loves this one and his meaning. He didn’t choose it without a reason.

Bucky is still looking at him, murmuring a word from time to time.

“ _Why am I really here? Why am I really here?_ ” Clint sings, one last time, and Bucky sighs, with a little smile on his lips.

“I like this song,” Bucky says.

Clint nods, running his fingers gently on the guitar still in his hands. “Yeah, me too.”

“I like your voice, too. It’s... really magnetic.”

Clint smiles, almost grins, and feels his own cheeks blushing.

“We should go together, one day, you know,” Bucky says, after a moment. The change of subject is rude and for a moment Clint doesn’t understand what he’s talking about.

“Go where?”

“To see them. The Oasis. If... if you like the idea.”

Clint can’t stop himself to laugh. “Oh sweet summer child,” he says. Bucky looks at him, offended, and Clint laughs even more loudly. “I think we are a little late for that. They split up years ago, unfortunately.”

Bucky is so shocked his eyes could fall off. “They _what_?!”

“Hey, that’s okay, we can go to any other concert you’d like,” Clint says, and that makes Bucky stop and look at him with almost hope.

Clint smiles and kisses him. Just like this. He kisses Bucky lightly, a soft near-touch of lips, a brush of their mouth and nothing more.

Bucky’s lips stay still under Clint’s, and even if they taste like blood and dust, they’re the best thing in the world, really, and make Clint’s heart beat fast - and faster when they finally open up a little. They kiss, and Bucky sighs and pulls Clint into it, with the metal hand into his hair. Clint lets him do it, because, he’s not so crazy to turn down Bucky Damned Hot Barnes. Not when he kisses like this, wet, hot and perfect.

“Fuck, you’re slow,” Bucky laughs and kisses him again, and Clint can’t do anything else but hug him and kiss him back.

They stay like that for a while, kissing on a bed, hugging each other and nothing more. It’s like they’re two teenager and there isn’t anybody else in the whole world.

Perfect.

  


_______________

 

Christmas Party at the Avengers Tower is always a big deal. There are so many people and so many things to do that it’s a miracle it goes well every single year.

This year is the first Christmas Party Avengers Edition for Bucky, and Clint is pretty sure Steve has glared at the blue sky all the damned day.

“He wants it to snow,” Bucky has explained to him, that afternoon, in his room. “He wants it to be the perfect Christmas day, but I’m not sure if it’s for me.”

“What are you talking about? Of course it’s for you. Steve has worked so hard to make sure everything’s perfect, and why if it’s not for you?”

“Stark,” Bucky explains and... well, yeah, Clint doesn’t have a reply. “This is their first Christmas together, after all.” Bucky rolls his eyes, but he is smiling, and Clint knows that he is as happy for them as all the others. Steve and Tony are dating - finally, officially, hopelessly - and even if they are sappy and Bucky calls them gross everytime they kiss in front of him, Clint knows he’s just pretending.

Clint looks at Bucky, at his young face, aged too soon because of the war, and runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

“Well, I want the perfect Christmas for you,” he says, with a little smile. Bucky’s smile is bigger and brighter and impossible not to kiss, for Clint. So he does it there, in front of the window in Bucky’s room, with the twilight making everything red and pink and warm - but maybe that’s because of Bucky’s hands on Clint.

Anyway, the party goes well. They laugh, they cheer, and they shake hands all night long. And when finally Tony calls it a night, everybody leave with a smile, someone still singing.

Clint sits on the sofa, in front of Bucky, and smiles when their feet touch. They didn’t say anything to anyone about the kiss and the sex and whatever that thing between them is. Clint is ready to give it a name, but he’s pretty sure Bucky isn’t, so he stays quiet and wait. He can wait, he can be everything Bucky wants him to be.

“So, how’s it going with the guitar?” Steve asks after a moment, sitting next to his best friend.

Bucky shrugs. “I’ve made some pretty good progress,” he says, and Clint snorts.

“He’s done more than that. He is really good.”

Steve’s face lights up and shows the pride he feels - because of course Steve feels proud about Bucky doing something simple and normal like learning to play the guitar. Clint asks himself what would he think about him and Bucky having that _thing_ , and if he would be still proud.

“Can you show me?” Steve asks, with that tiny smile that won’t take a no for an answer.

“No,” Bucky says - and, wow. Rebel. Clint’s... _something_ is a badass rebel and this is not hot as fuck and Clint doesn’t want suck him right here and now. Not at all.

“Come on, Barnes, let’s see what you can do,” Tony urges, while Steve already handles him the guitar. Wow, that was fast.

Bucky looks unsure and searches for Clint’s eyes, and Clint just nods, because Bucky has become really good and these are their friends, their teammates. No pressure, no shame. Bucky is in his safe place.

Bucky takes the guitar and sits very nervously on the edge of the sofa, according the strings.

“Okay, I’ve been practicing this song for a while, because it’s beautiful and perfect and reminds me of someone as amazing as this song,” Bucky stops talking and clears his throat, not looking at anybody. “Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.” And then, Bucky starts to play. The noted beat makes everybody stay quiet while Bucky close his eyes and sings.

“ _Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you,_ ” Bucky starts to sing with his rusty voice that makes Clint shake every time. Bucky’s voice is the only sound in addition to the music. Everybody else stays quiet and listens. Tony sits next to Steve, and one arm falls casually on Steve’s shoulder, who moves just to curl into the other’s side. They’re smiling and Clint smiles too, because they’re happy and in love and nobody deserves love more than those two. Maybe only Bucky, if he’ll let Clint do it.

“ _I said maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me, and after all, you're my wonderwall_ ,” Bucky sings, ending the song with the last chord, and suddenly Clint _understand_.

Clint holds his breath. There is a moment of perfect silence when Bucky stop playing. Then someone - Steve? - starts to clap and everybody else follow, and someone else - Natasha - whistles.

“Damn, you’re really good, Barnes,” Tony is impressed, Clint doesn’t need to look at him to know it. And even if he would look at him, he can’t. Right now he can’t look at anybody’s face. Right now he can’t do anything else but looking and smiling at Bucky, with his heart beating faster and threatening to explode in his chest. Clint doesn’t think he deserves that, but hell, for once in his life he wants to be selfish and holding on to this happiness.

Clint smiles, looking at Bucky and the guitar on his hands. Bucky looks up and grins - and, damn, Clint doesn't resist the urge, he leans over and kisses him.

Bucky sighs softly, while the others gasp, but Clint doesn't care. Why would he? Bucky is hugging him and kissing him back like he doesn't care about anything else in the world.

“Pay me, Stark,” Natasha says.

“Come on, that could mean anything,” Tony tries to say, but Bruce, behind him, pats him on his shoulder and sighs.

“She wins, Tons. And so do I. Pay us, come on.”

“How-Whe-What?” Steve babbles, looking at Clint and Bucky with two big, shocked eyes. Bucky grins, letting finally go of Clint and turning towards his best friend.

“What, Stevie?”

“How can I possibly missed that? _This_?” Steve almost screams, pointing at their still holding hands.

“You’ve always missed those things,” Bucky replies and shrugs, as saying that’s not a big deal. Steve seams almost offended, but doesn’t reply.

“Really?” Tony says, crossing his arms on his chest. “I trusted your word, Rogers! I believed in you! How can you not see your, and I’m quoting here, _best friend for life who you know better than yourself_ screwing Birdhead?”

“We’re not screwing,” Bucky says - and wait, were the last couple of nights just a dream? The question must be written all over his face, because Bucky blushes and grins. “I mean, not only,” he adds. “It’ just... I have a crush on you.”

“Do you?” Clint smiles, and is must be possible to see it from the space, for how bright it is. He’s pretty sure all their friends are looking at the two of them, but, really, Clint doesn’t care. “I have a crush on you, too,” he says and gets paid back with a soft smile and an even softer kiss.

Everybody splits, finally, giving the two of them the intimacy they want.

“J, put some music on,” Tony says and in no time a Christmas Carol is singing from the speakers.

“Merry Christmas,” Bucky says on Clint’s lips, and Clint smiles and kisses him again.

“Merry Christmas,” Clint says back and lets Bucky cuddle into his side with a sigh. On the other side of the room, Steve smiles and toasts his drink to them, like he’s happy for them, for both of them, and Clint nods and smiles, because there is acceptance in his eyes - and yeah, he’s relieved that Captain America approves their... relationship.

Oh God, Clint is in a relationship with Bucky Barnes and he’s so happy, and is all of this real? He’s not sure. Maybe he has misunderstood Bucky’s words, maybe Bucky just meant... he’s probably just having a little break down. It’s understandable.

He is happy. He really is. In fact, he’s more than happy. He’s excited and positive about his future. And even if he doesn’t really know why Bucky likes him, he’s pretty sure nothing can go wrong, not until Bucky stays with him like this, curled into Clint’s side with his head on Clint’s shoulder.

It’s past midnight, they’re cuddling on the sofa, Steve and Tony are talking not so far from them, with their fingers laced, and Bruce and Natasha are laughing and dancing. And then Sam approaches them and make them laugh even more, while Steve complains about Tony’s music taste.

A lightening cuts the sky, and before anyone can note it, a thunder makes everything shake, and Thor gets down from the sky. There are smiles and hugs and clapping and manly pats on shoulders, and more than one toast for the God of Thunder.

And then a metal hand finds Clint’s hand and Bucky pulls him near the window.

“First perfect Christmas night,” he says with a smile.

Clint hugs him from the back and looks silently at the snow that slowly falls from the sky, making everything looks magic and out of this word.

 


End file.
